


Costretto

by YdrittE



Series: Relentless and Chosen [4]
Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse), Resident Evil - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Coercion, Conditioning, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Excella Lives AU, F/M, Female-On-Male Rape, Multiple Heists, Non-Consensual, Non-Consensual Breathplay, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Non-Consensual Touching, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sex, Sexual Abuse, Some Of Which Don't Go So Well, Violent Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-28
Updated: 2019-07-27
Packaged: 2020-05-20 20:47:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 16
Words: 19,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19384384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YdrittE/pseuds/YdrittE
Summary: In which Excella works towards securing her future together with Wesker and literally everbody else - including Wesker - works against it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, I'm back! Here to bring you more success for Excella, misery for Wesker, and stress for everybody else.
> 
> Reading the first part of the series is highly recommended because it lays the groundwork for this one.
> 
> [NOTE: The chapter(s) that the non-con related tags revolve around will be prefaced by the author’s note “Mind the tags please”, but other chapters can and will contain parts and/or hints of it as well. Basically expect creepy rape vibes every time Wesker or Excella are there is what I’m trying to say.]

The stones beneath her shoes were radiating heat, hours of being exposed to the scorching African sun every day making the ground unbearable to walk upon barefooted. Crumbling steps led up to an overgrown bed of flowers.

She took a deep breath, almost gagged at the thick, cloyingly sweet smell of decay that hit her senses.

_The flowers stink of death. How fitting._

They _looked_ like death, too – a sickly orange-brown colouring that gave even the ones in full bloom a wilting appearance.

She knelt down to examine one up close, wary of touching them directly. These plants were the source of all the evil, after all. Or so she had read.

A soft click sounded behind her. The cocking of a gun. She froze in her movement.

“Step away,” ordered a calm voice. “Hands where I can see them.”

She obeyed, and turned around to come face to face with a dark-skinned woman in combat gear, who seemed equal parts surprised to find someone here and determined to remove her from the site. The blue logo on the side of her sleeve revealed her to be an agent from the BSAA. That was relieving, at least.

“You are trespassing on private property,” the woman told her.

“Last time I checked, this area belonged to Tricell. And Tricell is gone.”

The woman frowned. “How do you know about that? Tricell’s recent business has not been disclosed to the general public.”

_I’m not the general public._

“I’m looking for someone,” she said instead, avoiding the question.

No reaction. She took a step forward. Immediately, the gun was pointed at her forehead.

“Stay back,” the woman ordered, still completely serious.

“I’m looking for someone,” she repeated, careful to keep her voice soft and steady. “I was hoping to find him here. This is where he was headed, last I heard.”

And finally, that got a response. “Who are you looking for, exactly?” Still suspicious, still on edge. But it was progress.

She breathed a sigh of relief. “My brother,” she said. “I’m looking or my brother.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Any news from Kijuju?”

“Nothing.”

Jill sounded annoyed. Not that Chris could blame her. It wasn’t just that their search for Excella, despite several dozen teams of agents pursuing the multitude of (probably fake) leads and a number of countries’ government security covertly supporting their efforts, had been fruitless so far.

No, on a more personal note, this was the third time already that Jill’s request for permission to finally leave headquarters for any extended period of time had been denied – despite both the med wing and the lab declaring the virus in her system noncontagious and, for lack of a better term, safe, and the decent progress the therapist assigned to her reported.

She was going stir crazy, she said. But she was also Chris’ main source of updates on the international situation while he was out on missions, which he had to admit he was glad about. It was always a relief to hear that Sheva and Josh – who were in charge of securing and surveying the Tricell/Umbrella lab built around the Progenitor flowers – hadn’t run into any complications.

“Found anything yet?” Jill changed the topic, and it was Chris’ turn to be annoyed.

“Nothing,” he told her grimly. “Granted, we’re not done yet, but finding them gets less and less likely the more time passes. They could be anywhere by now.”

Jill hummed thoughtfully. “I don’t think they are,” she admitted. “Dragging Wesker around can’t be easy, and she doesn’t know how far our influence reaches and whether we can track her movements in public. If you ask me, she’s holed up somewhere with him, and won’t move until we force her to.”

“I hope you’re right.”

Another agent stepped in the doorway, holding a manila folder. Chris held up a finger to signify he’d be there in a second.

“I gotta go, Jill. Call you back later?”

“Please do; I’m dying of boredom back over here,” Jill sighed theatrically. “And enjoy the weather! I hear Italy’s real lovely this time of year.”

Chris rolled his eyes – even though she couldn’t see that, of course – and said his goodbyes.

He put down the phone. The agent stepped forward.

“Please tell me have good news.” Chris pinched the bridge of his nose. Jill’s so-called ‘lovely’ weather took the form of days hot and dry enough to rival Kijuju, and nights barely cool enough to provide relief from the days. Not exactly optimal when carrying weapons and wearing kevlar vests.  

“Kind of,” the agent replied seriously. She was a good few years younger than Chris, and eager to work on such an important mission. She was also from Italy and didn’t seem to mind the heat as much. “Somebody accessed Gionne’s account within the Tricell network and downloaded some files. They were too quick for us to get an exact location, but it seems Agent Valentine was correct in assuming she would… come home.”

A little smile brightened her face. Chris returned it.

“She’s in the country?”

“If it was her doing it, then yes.”

He nodded. “Good job, agent. Leave the files, please. I’ll read through them shortly.”

As soon as the young woman was out the door, Chris was dialing Jill’s number, and didn’t even give her time to state her name when she picked up.

“They’re here!” he announced loudly. Forgotten was the sweltering heat and the fact that they’d been chasing cold trails for weeks. “They’re in Italy, Jill! The Tricell acount’s been accessed!”

Jill gave a small but enthusiastic whoop. “Fuck yeah! Go and get ‘em! And then get your ass back to America and personally sign my goddamn vacation slip because I’m _sick_ of this fucking building!”


	3. Chapter 3

Excella could never quite help the vague, sinking feeling of discomfort every time she came back to the safe house after being away for more than a few hours – discomfort rooted in the thought that maybe this time when she opened the door and made her way around the rooms, he’d be gone. That he’d rather upset her plans, force her to act ahead of schedule, and be dragged back to her side forcefully with the help of Uroboros.

Yet, like every time before this one, he was exactly where she’d left him. He was always upstairs when she returned, usually either in the bedroom itself or in the adjacent bathroom, pretending like he had just happened to be there, like he hadn’t heard her and subsequently retreated from her immediate path. She found it rather amusing, and thus chose not to call him out on it for the time being.

He looked up from where he was sitting when she entered the bedroom, without moving to approach or retreat from her, as if her presence held no particularly unusual quality at all. But his stance seemed tense, and his red eyes were dim from serum withdrawal.

“Where _were_ you?” he demanded to know. “You were gone for _days_.”

“Business. Nothing to concern yourself with,” Excella told him, amused. “Did you get bored while I was away, hm?”

Albert scowled, and didn’t answer.

She strode past him, absentmindedly running a hand through his hair as she got close enough and reaching for the syringe and chemicals neatly positioned on the bedside table. The reason he was acting vexed about her prolonged absence wasn’t boredom – it was his body’s inconvenient reliance on PG67A/W, and the fact that he hadn’t dared try to administer his own doses since the one and only time she’d caught him doing it. Fast to learn from his mistakes, she had to give him that much.

Next to the bottles lay a stack of paper covered in thin, narrow print, with an all-too-familiar green and blue logo at the top left corner of each page. Excella hesitated, and threw Albert a glance over her shoulder. “What are you reading there?”

He didn’t look at her, feigning disinterest to hide what was so very obviously nervousness. “Documentation of the first few Uroboros mock experiments Tricell did back in the day.”

Excella frowned. She remembered those experiments… but the files on it should have been buried deep within the digital storage at this point, with how much time had passed and how many other experiments had been conducted between then and now. Plus… “And where did you get _that_?”

“Tricell network.”

“I figured. But that’s not what I meant. Those files are highly confidential.”

“Your account has a high enough clearance to access them.” She couldn’t quite figure out if he was annoying her on purpose, or if he really thought accessing the network over her account, which was definitely being monitored by the BSAA unless they were complete morons, was anything even remotely resembling a good idea.

“And how exactly did you get into _my_ account, if you don’t mind?” Excella asked, her voice thin with barely controlled fury.

He turned his head and blankly met her stare. “Your password is my name,” he told her matter-of-factly, as if that somehow excused any of his actions. He seemed to think nothing of it. But then again, keeping up their cover and avoiding suspicion and whether or not the safe house was still _safe_ hadn’t been of any concern to him since they’d arrived, had it?

She turned around and made to leave.

“You’re worried that the BSAA will track the location, aren’t you?” Albert called after her. The intonation was just flat enough to match his previous disinterested tone, yet it had an edge to it subtle enough that someone less observant wouldn’t even have heard it… an edge of spite dangerously close to a challenge.

Excella stopped in the doorway and looked back at him, at how tense and controlled his posture was where he was sitting on the bed. He’d done this on purpose. She was almost sure of it.

“I’m worried that maybe I should skip a few doses of ’67 in order to make you easier to handle while travelling. And that the next house we go to should probably not have network access, so that I can monitor what reading material you use to entertain yourself while I’m away,” she said with a smile, which brightened ever-so-slightly at the instant, unsubtle darkening of his mood.  

“You don’t _need_ to put me on withdrawal just for that,” Albert muttered. “Running is no longer an option, remember?”

Excella rolled her eyes. “And since when do you get to decide whether or not withholding ’67 is necessary?”

That seemed to irritate him. “I’d much prefer to actually get to see a bit of the world outside, since we’re going anyway. Because in case you hadn’t noticed, I haven’t left the house in _weeks_ ,” he told her accusingly, getting louder and louder, almost to the point of yelling. “You go away for days on end doing… whatever it is you do, and meanwhile I’m _stuck_ here not daring to set foot outside in case you decide that’s ‘trying to run away’ and violates the bargain or however the _hell_ you justify this- this-“ He stopped, gesturing wildly trying to find a word for _this_ and coming up empty.

Excella stepped forward, and caught his wrists to make him stop moving. He froze immediately, the gesture a familiar one. She smiled down at him. “I wouldn’t leave if I could help it, but at the end of the day, _someone_ has to ensure the BSAA doesn’t get ahead of us, and I simply can’t do that from a location as remote as this. And believe me: as terrible as being ‘stuck’ inside may seem, it’s still _safe_.”

They were lies, technically. Being found out was inevitably going to happen sooner or later, and the only real reason for trying to delay it was convenience – and the nagging worry in the back of her mind which warned her that they’d try to take Albert away if given half a chance. And if she just told him often enough that restricting his movement was for his own safety instead of her own peace of mind…

For now, he didn’t buy it. He opened his mouth. And then closed it again, without a word. But Excella knew what he had wanted to say. _It’s not safe from you._

And, well… he wasn’t exactly wrong on that front. But this was one evil she was not going to protect him from. And she was getting tired of spending the precious time she had with him doing nothing but arguing.

Instead she let go of his wrists, and wrapped her arms around his neck, effectively immobilising him. “Listen. There is an extremely simple solution to these issues. You’re upset because you don’t want to be inside the house constantly, and because you don’t want to go without serum for a prolonged period of time. Correct?” she asked a bit too sweetly.

Albert stared at her as if she’d lost her mind, probably trying to figure out if this was a trap question. “…Yes?”

“And there exactly lies the problem.” Excella sighed. “All you ever tell me is what you _don’t_ want – which has absolutely zero bearing on ‘the bargain’, as you so aptly called it. I could not be less interested in what you don’t want. The only thing that actually matters is what you _do_ want. Because I vaguely recall promising to give you that.”

He didn’t return the smile she gave him, only seemed to scowl deeper. “And I _vaguely recall_ there being a catch to that promise.”

“Alright.” She shrugged, and pushed against his chest ever so gently to guide him onto his back, moving to follow him and straddle his hips. “If this is how you want to play it, then I guess you’ll have to earn favours like that the old-fashioned way. You want serum and permission to leave the house?”

Albert glared up at her silently. And nodded.

A warm shiver ran up her spine. Not quite triumph, but close. “Then work to get them,” she whispered, bent down to mouth at his neck, her hands following the perfect lines of his body underneath the formfitting black ensemble he still insisted on wearing.

He tensed under her touch when she started undressing him, but didn’t put up a fight. That, too, was a mistake he had learned not to make.

It still took a good bit of coaxing to get him fully erect, and then a bit more until he started making noises, but it was a far cry from how resistant he’d been at the start. With a bit more incentive to try and please her, she’d make a proper gigolò of him yet, Excella thought to herself.

All it needed was a bit more time.


	4. Chapter 4

“Miss Valentine. How nice to see you,” one of the agents greeted her. The kid was smiling from ear to ear.

Jill waved at them, and made for the deserted desk in the corner of the office, where a swivel chair, trash bin and enough stacks of paper to make pellets to throw into said trash bin awaited her. She liked coming to this department in particular. The giant communications console crammed into a corner reminded her of way back when S.T.A.R.S. was still a thing (even though this console was way more modern and could do way more things), and the people working in this area of the BSAA, while initially unfamiliar, had been unabashedly excited to meet her.

She wasn’t _officially_ part of the force again – but nobody commented on her presence, so she took that as a sign that she was allowed here. And it was better than sitting around in the sparsely furnished room they’d assigned to her and stare at the wall or whatever the fuck they expected her to do.

So instead she opted to nonchalantly occupy whatever empty desks she could find in the different departments and quiz people about the latest developments, big and small ones alike. A lot had happened in the three years that she’d been gone, after all.

But the comm people were always a priority – because they were the ones who monitored progress on the Kijuju Cleanup, and everything connected to it, which meant they were the ones who had updates on her friends.

Jill plunked down into the chair, pulling her feet up to sit cross-legged, and swivelled around to face the room. “Any news?” she called, to no one in particular.

“Agent Redfield got a lead!” yelled an agent right next to the console.

“Yeah, he told me that already,” Jill yelled back. “Italy’s the jackpot, apparently. Which means several of you guys owe me money, by the way.”

Exasperated groans were her only answer. Jill couldn’t help but grin. She had missed this kind of easy-going work environment.  “What else?”

“Agent Alomar apprehended someone who broke into the Progenitor facility.”

A sudden hush fell over the room – it seemed this was news to them as well. The agent who had said it looked around uncomfortably.

 “Do we know who it is?” Jill asked with a frown.

He shook his head. “The passport she was carrying was forged – expertly forged, but forged nonetheless. She’s refusing to disclose her identity, and her cover story is obviously made up. They’re assuming Excella sent her.”

Jill nodded, and then swivelled around to face her desk again. That was strange news – she would have thought Excella wouldn’t bother with the Progenitor facility anymore. Unless she really _was_ continuing to give Wesker serum, like Chris had initially assumed. But then she wouldn’t be running out already… would she?

She ripped a piece of paper up into tiny squares, and rolled one up into a pellet, then aimed for the trash bin by another agent’s desk. The therapist had suggested she try and keep herself busy somehow. This was the next best alternative to weapons training, which she was still banned from. It was a roundabout way to practise her aim, at least. And helped her think.

What if that person hadn’t been sent by Excella? What if Wesker had sent them? Or someone else entirely?

“What was the cover story?” Jill called out, without turning around.

There was a beat of silence before the agent replied. “She said she was looking for her brother.”

_What the hell._

Sounded like complete bullshit, made up just like the agent had said. Unless…

Jill reached for her phone, a nagging feeling of dread beginning for form in her stomach. It didn’t quite add up, what with the fake identity and the person’s refusal to talk. But she needed to be sure. Chris would be pissed beyond belief otherwise.

Seconds ticked by as she waited, listening to the dull beeping noise of the phone.

And then there was a scratching sound, and a voice on the other end of the line. “Hello?”

Jill let out a sigh of relief, let her head hit the back of the chair as the nervous tension left her body. “Hey, Claire. Long time no see. Have you heard anything from Chris lately?”


	5. Chapter 5

The lady was sitting with her arms crossed, clearly signalling to anyone who might think about attempting to engage with her that it was a pointless endeavour and to please just stay away and leave her alone. She barely even looked up when Sheva entered the room and sat down opposite her, a stack of files in one hand and a coffee mug in the other. This was going to be a pain.

“Feeling talkative yet?” Sheva asked.

The lady shook her head.

“That’s unfortunate. We were hoping to get this whole business over with as soon as possible. Got better things to do that babysit intruders. And I’m sure _you’ve_ got better things to do as well.”

An annoyed ‘hmph’ was all she got for an answer.

Sheva took a sip of coffee, and opened up the first of the files. “Alright, so the bank account matching your card is under a different name than the one on your passport, and your I.D. itself has _another_ name on it. No info on any of those identities that we could find, which means you probably didn’t assume them until pretty recently. So, what happened? What made you suddenly go ‘oh, I should fly to Africa and infiltrate a secret, abandoned research facility’?”

She leaned forward to give the lady what she hoped was an intense glare. “Was it Tricell’s collapse?”

The lady stared back at her, icy blue eyes meeting dark brown ones. “I’m looking for my brother.” The same explanation as before, one that didn’t explain _anything_.

“Alright,” Sheva conceded, opting for a more amiable approach. “And when did he disappear?”

A quick look of surprise passed the lady’s face, before the neutral expression returned. “Five weeks ago,” she said.

_Around the time of when the Kijuju Incident happened. Huh._

“Where was he last seen?”

No answer. The lady was staring at her again, eyes narrowed in mistrust.

“Did he say where he was going?”

“No. I haven’t spoken to him in years.”

“Then how did you get the idea that he might be _here_ of all places?”

Again, no reply. But just when Sheva was about to give up on that particular topic, the lady spoke. She seemed hesitant for the first time since they’d apprehended her. “I had heard from reliable sources that he was travelling to this place,” she said slowly, carefully weighing every word. “He was… with Tricell. So when those same sources told me about what happened to that tanker…”

She trailed off, and fell silent again.

Sheva put down the files. “All employees of Tricell that survived the incident are in our custody. If you give me his name, I can probably locate him. If he’s alive.”

But the lady just shook her head.

“What, you don’t want me to locate him?”

“I read the reports on the tanker incident. He’s not with you.”

Sheva narrowed her eyes. There was a little corner in the back of her mind where a suspicion was beginning to take form, about just who this lady was talking about. But there was only one way to confirm that suspicion. “The report says he’s with someone called Excella Gionne, doesn’t it?” she asked.

Sharp blue eyes snapped up, widened in surprise… and fear. _Bingo._

Sheva tried to keep her expression as blank as possible. “The BSAA is working around the clock to try and find them. I’m sure you’re aware of that?”

The lady nodded. “But I am also aware that you haven’t had any results yet. And if all the things in that report are true…” Her expression darkened.

“Then what?”

“Then Excella Gionne will pay.” The bitter venom in the lady’s voice was unmistakeable.

Sheva tilted her head to the side in vague confusion. “I thought you hadn’t spoken with your brother in years?”

She was rewarded with a look of absolute fury. “ _No one_ lays hands on a Wesker,” the lady hissed, gripping the edge of the table hard enough to make her knuckles turn white. “We were made to be better than common folk, and I will not allow some virus-ridden, insolent _bitch_ to defile the only success Umbrella ever brought forth.”

_I think it’s a bit too late for that._

But she didn’t say that out loud.

“We’ll find them eventually,” she said instead. It was all she could offer to soothe the lady’s anger. “But I’m sure you understand that I can’t just let you leave, knowing who you are.”

The lady bared her teeth at her. “I will _not_ sit around doing nothing while you incompetent fools let that Gionne woman get away!”

“Yes you are, unless headquarters decides you’re free to go. Which is pretty unlikely to happen, but keep your fingers crossed, I guess,” Sheva said with a shrug, and got up to leave. At the door, she hesitated. “I’m genuinely sorry about your brother, by the way. We would have all preferred for that incident to have ended differently,” she said quietly, without looking over her shoulder to catch the reaction.

She got no reply.

_Well, let’s see what headquarters has to say about that. Another Wesker, who’d have thought._

Jill would be delighted.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mind the tags please.

Excella was in a bad mood. That was the only explanation. He’d heard her return almost an hour ago, had waited for when she’d inevitably come upstairs to find him. But she hadn’t come. She was still downstairs, for some reason, and Wesker didn’t know what to _do_.

Did she expect him to come downstairs? Did she want him to leave her alone and not bother her?

It was the itch of withdrawal that drove him out of hiding eventually, syringe and bottles in hand, ever so slowly creeping down the stairs, barefoot and silent, to see what she was doing. Part of him hoped she’d tell him to go away again.

But she didn’t. In fact, she didn’t react at all, didn’t turn around from where she was sitting by the kitchen counter. She didn’t acknowledge him at all until he set the serum down next to her – then she finally looked up.

Wesker took a few aprupt steps backwards at the violent glow of rage in her eyes, trying to put some sort of safe distance between himself and her, even though he knew that if she chose to take this anger out on him, those few feet wouldn’t save him. To say she was in a bad mood appeared to be an understatement.

A few seconds went by, the tension in the room weighing down on his mind. And then Excella smiled.

“There you are,” she said with false sweetness, reaching out a hand to beckon him closer. He obeyed hesitantly. “I was _just_ thinking about you, Albert.”

Something was off. Something was terribly, terribly off. The rage in her eyes hadn’t died down even a bit. As soon as he was within range, her arm shot forward and her fingers closed around his wrist, tightened to the point of pain as she pulled him in.

“Did you miss me, hm?” she asked, rubbing her thumb over his pulse point. “I meant to be back sooner, but unfortunately there’s been a few… unexpected developments.”

He opened his mouth, meaning to ask what those developments were. But the words died on his tongue when he caught her expression, how closely she was watching him, expecting him to walk right into her trap. “The serum’s effect has run out,” he managed to raspily force out instead, and her smile faded.

“I don’t _care_ about the fucking serum right now,” she snarled from between grit teeth. Wesker felt the bones of his wrist grinding against each other from the force of her grip, desperately trying to hold back the noise of pain. He’d messed up. She had been angry, and now he had made her even angrier by not saying what she had wanted him to say even though he’d only done it because he thought she’d been trying to bait him into annoying her, and she would hurt him just because she could and then not give him serum to help the wounds heal faster–

He cried out when she suddenly twisted his hand, the bones snapping under the pressure, and then she let go and was on her feet in an instant. “ _Strip_ ,” she hissed, shoving against his chest to drive him backwards. When he didn’t react immediately, she grabbed him by the hair and brought his face to hers, the burning fury in her gaze so intense he felt himself shaking. “Fucking _strip_ , you goddamn bitch, or I’m going to make you regret ever being born.”

Her grip in his hair loosened and he stumbled back, pulling down the zipper of his shirt with his one functioning hand and shrugging out of it as fast as he could, then working open his pants, panic hindering his movements and shutting down his thoughts. She was on him as soon as he was naked, forcing him to the floor without bothering to undress herself, merely hiking up her dress and shifting her underwear out of the way enough for him to penetrate her, moaning as he did so.

The pace she set was fast, almost frantic, and he didn’t _understand_ why this was happening, what that ‘unexpected development’ she mentioned could possibly have been, all he knew was that he needed to make her less angry if he wanted to stay in one piece. So he thrust up shallowly, using what little leverage he had to hopefully get this over with quicker and placate her.

Excella’s reaction was instantaneous. Before he knew it, her hands were around his throat and tightening, mercilessly cutting off his air. “Stay _still_ ,” she ordered, never ceasing the movement of her hips.

Darkness crept up against the corners of his vision, but he forced himself to go limp, not struggle. Stay still. She wanted him to stay still. Any other time he would have been relieved that his participation wasn’t required.

Through the haze of near-unconsciousness he felt her take hold of his broken hand, pulling it down between her legs, and fought down the wave of nausea that threatened to overtake him as she pressed his fingers to her clit, thrusting against them and sending sharp stabs of pain up his wrist. She was mumbling something, but his oxygen-deprived brain couldn’t quite make sense of the words.

He wasn’t sure when she climaxed, only that eventually she slowed down and then stopped, and then _finally_ he could breathe again. Excella eased off him while he coughed and pulled in lungful after desperate, wheezing lungful of air. By the time he managed to get into a sitting position, she had already fixed her clothes and was staring down at him. Her eyes were still bright, but now less with fury and more with victory.

“Go clean yourself up,” she instructed him. “After that, I’ll give you your dose of ’67.”

Wesker got to his feet shakily, painfully aware of the aroused state his body was still in despite the harm she had inflicted on him, and padded over to the stairs. His foot was on the bottom step when Excella called out.

“Oh, and Albert?”

He stopped dead in his tracks, tilting his head to indicate he was listening.

Excella chuckled. “Don’t _ever_ try to change the topic on me again.”


	7. Chapter 7

She resumed her seat at the kitchen counter while he was gone, absentmindedly listening to the quiet sounds of his footsteps upstairs while she sorted out her thoughts. The intense anger she had felt when Albert so bluntly changed the subject had dissipated as quickly as it had appeared, pacified by her display of control over his body, but the gnawing worry that had been the intital cause of it remained.

The appearance of this supposed other Wesker was a problem, no matter whether they were telling the truth about being related to Albert or not. What was important was that they were poking about matters they had no business getting involved in, and making threats while they were at it. At least the BSAA had decided to be helpful for once and incapacitated them for the time being.

But the fact that they even knew of the Progenitor lab in the first place… that was troubling. That meant a connection with Umbrella, or Tricell, or something of the sort, and she didn’t have _time_ to deal with even more nosy idiots trying to get in her way.

Excella was pulled from her contemplations by soft, wary steps behind her. Albert had come back. She turned around in her seat and smiled, held out her hand to him. He stared at it, and didn’t move, so she rolled her eyes and got up.

Immediately he was stepping back, just a few steps to regain the distance between them, then stopping to await her next move. His mouth was a thin, tense line, betraying his anxiety, how shaken he really was. She realised he hadn’t said a single word since her outburst and the violence that had followed. Perhaps a bit of a peace offering was in order.

“Don’t worry; I’m not going to hurt you again,” she told him, careful to keep her voice calm and soothing.

He still retreated when she moved forward, and never took his eyes off her. “You always say that,” he mumbled under his breath. “Every single time. And it’s _always_ a lie.”

A tiny spark of the earlier irritation flared up in the back of her mind, but she pushed it away. Giving in to it would just prove his point. Instead, she smiled her sweetest smile, and moved towards him yet again. “It wouldn’t _be_ a lie if you didn’t misbehave so much, you know,” she countered, and noted how his frown deepened. “You really should have learned your lesson by now, don’t you think?”

No answer. Excella couldn’t say she was particularly surprised. But at least Albert had stopped backing away, cautiously let her approach and wrap her arms around his middle.

“See, that’s better,” she murmured sweetly. “You know how the game goes, right Albert? You do as I say, and I give you anything you want. So simple. All you have to do is tell me.” Her fingers were drawing idle patterns down the small of his back, noting the subtle trembling of his body. “Do you want anything, Albert? Anything at all? Tell me, and I’ll give it to you.”

He stared at her. And shook his head.

Excella felt her smile widen unwittingly; she couldn’t help it. “I’m glad to hear you seem to have everything you want. I feel quite the same.” She tangled a hand in his hair and pulled his head down so she could kiss him, his lips so wonderfully soft and pliant against hers.

It wasn’t what he had meant; she knew that as well as he did. But teasing him was fun, and would be worth it when he eventually gave in. Once again, just a matter of time. And in the meantime, she’d take as much advantage of his silence as possible.

“You haven’t come yet, have you?” she asked coyly, and kissed his cheek. “I’d say that needs changing. What do you think?”

She expected no answer, and didn’t get one. But that was just as well.


	8. Chapter 8

“Did you hear the news from Kijuju?” one of the agents called across the comm office the moment she had sat down and pulled up her feet. Jill swivelled around to face the room.

“Can’t say I have. Is it about that woman they caught in the Progenitor lab?”

“She claims to be related to Albert Wesker,” said someone. “And she’s got a bone to pick with Excella Gionne for obvious reasons.”

Jill let out a whistle. “Miss Gionne just keeps making new enemies, huh? Do we have info on whether this lady-Wesker is virus-enhanced or anything?”

Several people shook their heads.

“Alright, I guess we’ll have to wait for Sheva and Josh to get DNA samples or something then. Did I miss anything else?”

A young woman with glasses spoke up. “More Uroboros incidents scattered across the US and Europe, all small spreads of infection with death counts ranging from only the initial infectee to about a dozen civilian bystanders. We’ve lost no agents, though a few have been injured in the containment procedures, mostly first to second degree burns. Higher-ups are classifying the incidents as attempts at misdirection on Gionne’s part until further notice.”

“Lovely,” Jill said, and swivelled her chair the other way to indicate she was done quizzing people for now. Absentmindedly she started ripping up paper and making pellets, aiming at a trash bin halfway across the room while she processed this new information.

This had been a pattern ever since Excella’s disappearance – numerous, seemingly unrelated events, far enough apart geographically that it had to be multiple people behind it, all conducted by using minimal doses of Uroboros virus on patient zero. It was the most obvious distraction Jill had ever seen. But it undeniably _worked_ , and so far they had been unable to apprehend the ones carrying out the attacks.

And it raised another, rather worrying question, one that had been at the forefront of everyone’s mind ever since the cleanup crews had finally managed to board the ruined tanker and survey the damage. How much of Uroboros had Excella taken with her when she’d escaped? Sheva and Chris didn’t know for sure what the amount of virus stored in the facilities they’d fought their way through had been, and it was hard to say what one missile filled with Uroboros translated to once it was released. And then there were the additional bodies it consumed to be taken into account… all in all, it was a mess. But the amount of virus present on the tanker seemed suspiciously small, even with their very limited understanding of how it worked.

Someone cleared their throat next to her, pulling her from her contemplations. It was the agent with the glasses. “Sorry to interrupt,” she said. “But we neglected to mention earlier… Claire Redfield tried to contact you. We told her you’ll call once you get back.”

“And you fucking morons didn’t _open_ with that? Jesus.” Jill was already reaching for the phone sitting neatly on a stack of documents, when the agent suddenly took hold of her wrist to stop her. She looked worried.

“Please, Miss Valentine–”

“How many times do I have to tell you guys that you can call me Jill?”

“Please, _Jill_. I know she’s a close relative of Agent Redfield, and a friend of yours… but we are not allowed to disclose _any_ information on the Kijuju Incident or on the whole business with Excella Gionne. Just, please… keep that in mind when you talk to her, okay?”

Jill sighed. “She’s with TerraSave, so she probably already knows at least the general gist of things. But yeah, okay. I’ll try. Though she probably won’t take no for an answer when it comes to what Chris is up to and how he’s doing.”

The agent let go of her hand and nodded, seeming equal parts satisfied and relieved. “Thank you for understanding.”

Jill waited until she’d gone back to her desk and was thus safely out of earshot until dialing Claire’s number. She picked up after the second ring.

“You sure know how to keep a gal waiting,” Claire chided instead of a greeting, but the smile in her voice was unmistakeable and gave her away.

Jill sighed. “Sorry. Therapy session. Also, the peeps here at the comm office almost didn’t tell me you called. Can you believe it?”

“I can, actually.” Claire sounded annoyed. “They tried to politely hang up on me the entire first five minutes of the conversation, and only stopped once I told them my last name and threatened to send my brother to beat them up if they didn’t cut that shit out.”

“I guess nobody wants to get on Commander Redfield’s bad side, least of all for something like _that_ ,” Jill said with a laugh. “Not that he could actually do much at the moment, not being in the country and whatnot. But whatever.”

“Do you know where he is? I haven’t heard from him at all since before he went to Africa.” Claire’s tone was almost pleading. “You barely even explained why you were calling the other day, and the comm agents said it was all highly confidential and all that garbage, but Jill _please_. I just want to know if he’s okay.”

“I’m technically not allowed to tell you anything either. But yeah, he’s okay. As far as I know.”

Claire let out a long sigh of relief. “Thank God. I still can’t believe he was really in Kijuju when the outbreak happened. To think how easily he could have gotten killed, what with _hundreds_ of Plagas infectees–”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Jill interrupted her. “How the hell do you know about _that_? None of that shit was disclosed to the press!”

“Because I was _in_ Kijuju.”

“You _what_?!” Several agents looked her way, and Jill quickly lowered her voice again. “You’re fucking joking. Please tell me you’re joking, Claire.”

“Nope. I was in Kijuju. I arrived just a few days after the tanker incident, when TerraSave got involved. Had a badge stuck to my chest with my name clearly visible at all times, and not _one_ of the BSAA people there even bothered to tell me Chris was around. Or you, for that matter.”

Jill made a face. “To be fair, we spent the first two days after the tanker in quarantine because they were scared we’d explode into goo tentacles, and then we were shipped back to the US immediately. We probably weren’t even there anymore by the time you arrived.”

“But you _were_ there when it happened. And I had no goddamn clue until you called the other day! If I had known Chris was involved in that whole mess…” Claire trailed off, and took a few deep breaths to steady herself.

“Sorry?” Jill offered, not knowing what else to say.

Claire let out a shaky laugh. “Don’t apologise; it’s not your fault the BSAA handles crap this way. You’re probably not even supposed to be talking to me at all, huh?”

“I’m supposed to not tell you anything to do with the you-know-where incident and the whole business with you-know-who,” Jill corrected, and lowered her voice a bit more. “But Chris was making some progress, last I heard. No details, obviously, but it’s looking up. And we’ve got a… very special guest down in Africa.”

That got her an intrigued ‘ooh’ noise from Claire. “Someone to do with you-know-who?” she asked, talking quietly even though there was probably nobody listening in on her end of the line.

Jill grinned. “Not exactly. She’s claiming to be related to Chris’ and my old boss – not sure whether that’s true or not though – and thus majorly pissed at you-know-who. Sheva’s handling it as well as she can.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Jill saw a movement. It was the agent with the glasses, who was cautiously approaching her with a look on her face that indicated she wanted a word. Jill rolled her eyes. “Claire, I’m sorry to cut this short, but duty calls. I’ll keep you updated if I hear anything from Chris, alright?”

“Sure, sure. I understand. You’re probably really busy with all those things you’re not allowed to tell me about but did anyway.” Claire chuckled. “Also, and I might sound really stupid for asking this, but… who the heck is this you-know-who we’re talking about?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jill: You-know-who  
> Claire, who has read Harry Potter: i’m sorry what


	9. Chapter 9

It was always a lie, and this time was no different. Excella had been sweet for a bit, had tried to lure him back into something resembling a sense of security. But it had come crashing down pretty quickly.

She hadn’t mentioned that ‘unexpected development’ again, and he knew better than to ask, yet it was clear it still bothered her – and with it came unpredictable bouts of her being in a bad mood, during which she alternated rapidly between being annoyed by his very presence in the same room as her, and taking it as a slight if he avoided getting near her. Which of the two extremes it happened to be Wesker only ever managed to figure out once it was too late and she was angry.

Afterwards, she was right back to sweet words and promises of safety and stability, and insisting he tell her what he wanted.

_I want you to stop hurting me_ , said the little voice in the back of his mind, the one that became increasingly more worried for his life. But he still refused, because he _knew_ the moment he gave in, there would be no going back on the second bargain. So he kept his mouth shut and tried to stretch out the moments of reprieve for as long as possible… until inevitably her mood changed, and then the cycle started all over again. And each time the violence got worse.

It went like this for almost a week, a hellish six days of trying to anticipate her mood, to stay out of her way when it was bad and to not ruin it when it was good, trying to get up and down the stairs as silently as possible so she wouldn’t hear him moving about. ’67 was a topic better not breached, so he grit his teeth while the withdrawal turned from an itch to pins and needles and then to outright pain twisting at the back of his skull, to dizziness and nausea and headaches and memory lapses.

The bruises and broken bones she gave him healed slower and slower, quickly joined by fresh injuries whenever he thought he might finally catch a break. Excella touched them a lot whenever she had him naked – she seemed to like this look on him. It scared him more than he cared to admit.

And then one morning she was standing by the bed when he woke up, staring down at him. He recoiled in expectation of another unexplained punishment.

“I’m leaving,” Excella informed him coolly, entirely unconcerned by his distress. “Behave yourself while I’m gone.”

She offered no explanation, no information on how long she’d be away or what she was doing, and was out the door before he could even consider asking. But if he was quite honest with himself, he didn’t really care all that much. What was important was that she was _gone_ , and that he’d have peace from her for at least a little while.

It was strangely freeing to be able to move around the house without having to try and soften his steps, or listen to determine which room she was in. Still, the ache of his body made every movement painful, and the headache pounding against his skull as well as the vague nausea when he tried to eat something served as a constant reminder that it had been far too long since his last dose of serum.

As the day went on, he found himself gravitating more and more towards the bedroom upstairs, where the syringe and bottles were sitting on the nightstand, promising relief. More than once he had them in his hands, and every time he changed his mind at the last moment and then put them back, looking behind himself warily as if someone was standing in the doorway, watching and judging and waiting for him to slip up.

The Tricell files he’d downloaded that other time caught his eye. Wesker frowned at them, an idea tickling at his mind. _You’re worried that the BSAA might track the location, aren’t you?_ Was that why Excella had been so angry at him lately? Was the BSAA closing in on them?

_…but she wouldn’t leave if they were that close to finding us. Would she?_

No. No, she wouldn’t. She would stay close, to make sure nobody tried to take him away from her. If they found him, injured and on withdrawal as he was…

If they found him while she wasn’t here…

The idea was taking shape, vague and surrounded by too many uncertainties, the thought of what would happen if it failed causing his throat to constrict in anxiety. But then again, how much worse could it get than this?

Wesker didn’t want to stick around to find the answer to that question. He wanted _out_.

So he snatched up the syringe and bottles, tiptoed downstairs – such an ingrained habit after only a week, stupid, stupid habit – and flicked on the computer, measuring a generous dose of serum (perhaps a little too much, but it wasn’t like it mattered anymore with how irregular his injections had been) while he waited for the systems to boot up. Just a pinprick of the needle, and then warm, soothing fire spread through his veins, dulling the pain and lifting the haze clouding his senses. He half expected Excella to burst through the door and punish him for it – but she didn’t. She wasn’t here, and she wouldn’t be back for a while.

The password was still the same. He clicked through to the databank, idly chose a handful of files and downloaded them. How long until they noticed? And how long until they got moving? Did they even know what this meant?

Another idea took hold of him. He opened a document, his fingers practically flying across the keyboard as he typed, and then saved the words for them to see, drumming his fingers on the table in impatience while he waited. _Very little to blackmail her with. Except for me. If you have me, you have a queen on the board. Anything I want, and anything to get me back._

Laughter bubbled up inside him, a release of almost two months of tension, his heart beating hard and fast against his ribs as it pumped ’67 through his system. Who would they send, he wondered. Chris, perhaps? Or Jill, if she was already back in the field? Or someone else entirely?

Behind him, the door slammed open, and Wesker pushed against the edge of the table to turn the chair around, exhilarated at the prospect of finally setting foot outside this terrible house, of rest from Excella, of literally anything else but this.

The laugh died on his lips along with anything he might have wanted to say.


	10. Chapter 10

 

“We’ve got a location! Definite coordinates!” The agent’s voice was cracking with agitation as she waved the manila folder, bouncing on the tips of her toes like a child. “I called HQ and got their permission to move out!”

Chris was on his feet in an instant, returning her grin while he grabbed his weapon holster and got geared up in a hurry. “How far?” he asked her, strode past her towards the front door.

“About an hour, if we ignore the speed limits. Rest of the team’s already informed; they’re getting ready as we speak. ‘Copter’s on the way.” The young woman was struggling to keep up with him, but it didn’t seem to dampen her excitement.

Chris nodded approvingly. “Good job.”

He flipped through the pages of the report while they made their way downstairs, skimming over its contents. It had been less than five minutes since whoever they were had accessed the account. A passage caught his eye. He stopped dead in his tracks.

“Sir?” The agent had almost collided with him, coming to a halt at the last second. She looked over his shoulder to see what had given him pause. “Oh, yeah. I probably should have mentioned that they left a message. HQ is assuming it’s Wesker we’re dealing with.”

Chris’ heart was hammering, his own breathing loud in his ears. He knew they needed to get moving… but he couldn’t bring himself to look away.

_She’s not here. If you find me before she returns, you will have something to bargain with that she can’t refuse. Just make sure you don’t repeat the mistakes from the tanker. For the sake of all of us._

At surface level, it seemed to be a taunt like any other. ‘Come get me, if you can.’ Yet it lacked the biting arrogance, the smugness Chris had become so familiar with over the years, and the fact that Wesker seemed to not only be aware they could track access to the Tricell network, but was deliberately giving them enough time to zero in on the safe house’s location, was outright _telling_ them to come there…  

The pieces fell into place.

“Sir, we need to get moving.” The other agent was practically vibrating with impatience and nervousness. Chris tore his eyes away from the report and looked over at her.

“He’s asking for help,” he whispered, the words leaving a strange taste in his mouth.

She stared back at him, confused. “Sir?”

“He’s asking us to help him get away from Excella.”

It had been almost two months since the Kijuju Incident. Two months since they’d helped Excella get exactly what she wanted, and then paid the price for underestimating her. Two months since she’d disappeared, and Wesker along with her. What had happened in those two months?

Chris shook his head to chase away the thought. They had no time for sentimentality. They knew where to go now, and whoever they found at the location the coordinates led to would be either eliminated or taken into custody, if possible. There would be no truces this time.

They were on the road, the driver going at breakneck speed on the – thankfully empty – highway when Jill called. “Be fucking careful,” she told him without so much as an introduction. “I still need you to sign my vacation slip.”

“Did you read the message he left?” Chris asked in return, and she made a noise that sounded almost painful.

“Yeah, I did. People over here are going nuts over it.”

“What do _you_ think?”

She was silent for a moment. “I think,” she said very slowly, “that something pretty bad must have happened for Wesker to reach out to _us_ of all people. Either that, or this is a trick and Excella’s gonna be waiting for you when you get there. Whichever one it is, _be fucking careful_.” She sighed. “I know that message appeals to your stupid saviour complex really hard, Chris, but this is neither an ordinary abuser nor a helpless victim we’re dealing with. They’re terrorists, no matter what the hell they get up to behind closed doors, and what Excella did to him doesn’t concern us at the end of the day. Our job is to stop them. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“I know that,” Chris conceded, perhaps a bit more harshly than necessary. “Incapacitating Excella’s the top priority, and anyone associated with her is to be considered an enemy. I read the orders. But I still think–“

“ _No_. Don’t think,” she interrupted. “Thinking’s going to slow you down. Just do your job, and agonise over the moral ambiguity of your actions later. And shoot the fuck out of Excella if you get the chance to.” She hung up without saying goodbye. The other agents pretended not to have listened in while Chris slipped the phone back into his pocket.

The rest of the ride was spent in vaguely nervous silence, eventually leaving the highway for smaller, less well maintained roads. They passed a sign that one of the Italian agents told Chris said ‘private property’, and with that it was clear they were almost there.

The house they stopped a safe distance away from didn’t look out of the ordinary – if Chris didn’t know any better, he would have assumed it to be where some rich person spent their summer vacations. In a way, he guessed that _was_ true. He took point, led his team to surround the front door, and sent them into motion with a nod of his head. The young agent smiled at him as she passed by.

Inside it was eerily silent, the light from outside dimmed by blinds. Chris noted the stairs going up another floor and several doors leading to a wide space combining kitchen and living room. There was a computer situated on a table, next to a knocked over chair. And what looked like broken glass on the floor.

He stepped closer, instinctively holding his breath as he avoided stepping on the shards in case the noise would alert anyone hiding in another room. Though he had the distinct, unexplainable feeling that they were alone in the house. The glass shards and floor surrounding them were covered in an opaque, orange-brown liquid.

Chris’ foot nudged against something, and he looked down to find an empty syringe… and next to it, a small, almost unnoticeable dent in the hardwood floor, roughly the size and shape of a fist. For some reason, it caused the hairs on the back of his neck to rise.

He was bending down to examine it closer when the young agent stepped up next to him, her eyes wide and a tremble to her lips. “Sir,” she whispered. “Basement.”

That was all she would say, and he followed her to a plain wooden door situated underneath the staircase, leading down into a passage, the walls of which were lined with shelves crammed full of all sorts of supplies, food and water and medicine and files. The air down there smelled faintly of fruit, mixed with the unpleasant, sharp odour of chemicals, and the reason became clear once they rounded the first corner.

A knocked down shelf that must have once housed a multitude of bottles, in shambles amidst a sea of broken glass, spiderweb cracks running along the wall that were leading to a fist-sized dent in the middle where someone had apparently punched it with enough force to break the stone. Splatters of blood everywhere completed the grotesque scene.

He stared at it wordlessly for a few seconds, trying to wrap his head around the struggle that must have taken place. The blood was already turning darker as it dried. This had happened a while ago.

“The passage leads away from the house, and ends about two hundred metres from here. There are tire tracks going the opposite direction we came from,” the agent told him in a quiet, but steady voice. “It looks like she got here first.”

Something about that didn’t quite ring true in his head, but it took him a moment to understand just what it was that bothered him about it. And then it clicked.

Chris turned around, his mouth set in a thin, grim line, and regarded the young woman in front of him, who looked back with an unwavering sense of trust and duty.

“How did she know we were coming?” he asked her.


	11. Chapter 11

The new safe house was smaller than the one they’d been at before, more of a temporary resting place than anything, and stocked only with the bare essentials. Excella had gone through all the available resources as soon as possible, and to her great joy had found not only physical restraints, but also an assortment of strong narcotics. Those would come in especially useful, considering Albert wouldn’t stay knocked out forever.

Her eye twitched as the memory surfaced, of her return to the house after the panicked call from one of her informations, who had rambled about how they’d gotten a precise location and found a message in the Tricell network and that Redfield was moving out as they were speaking. She hadn’t wanted to believe it, all the way back to the estate, had _refused_ to while that nagging feeling grew stronger. She hadn’t believed it right up until she saw him sitting there, with that smile on his face that disappeared so very quickly.

The smile that made her fingers itch with the need to hurt, to break, to force her way so deep into his brain that his defiance and disloyalty would be uprooted and burned away, until he understood, really _understood_ how far she was willing to go to make him submit. She thought she’d had him before, when he’d been deprived of ’67 and terrified of her fury… yet there he’d been, smiling and resisting and trying to escape her, as if none of that had ever happened.

She’d wanted to grab him, hold him down and make him scream right then and there, and she could see in his eyes that he _knew_ that was what she wanted to do, but the looming threat of the BSAA’s arrival, of their ignorant attempts to take Albert away from her had forced her to act quickly, to push aside her anger and prioritise getting out of the house and bringing him somewhere else, safely out of their reach. There would be more than enough time later down the line to wipe the afterimage of that smile off his face.

He wasn’t smiling now, subdued by narcotics as he was, kept under ever since they’d arrived. He had woken up only once for a very short while right at the start, and Excella had upped his dose to avoid that happening again. If he was awake, he’d only manage to make her angry somehow, and she didn’t want any distractions. She needed time to think about how to proceed after this unfortunate setback. 

Even so, Albert managed to interrupt her thoughts every now and then, whenever he tossed and turned in his drug-induced sleep, probably caught in some sort of bad dream judging by the way his facial expression shifted ever so slightly to form a vague frown. She wondered sometimes what he was dreaming of, if it involved her. If he could somehow sense her presence even in this state. If some primitive, subconscious part of him knew that there’d be nothing but suffering waiting once he was finally allowed to wake up.

“I _will_ make you regret ever being born,” she told him, running a hand through his hair. “Just like when you thought you could inject yourself with ’67 while I was gone, and I would never know. But I _did_ know, and you learned that trying to deceive me had consequences… Perhaps it’s time to revisit that lesson, hm? What do you think?”

There was no answer, of course. Excella smiled.

She took told of his hand and slowly, ever-so-carefully bent his ring finger backwards until it broke with a rather satisfying _snap_. Albert made a high-pitched noise of pain low in his throat, unable to wake up.

There was no serum left in his system to help it heal. She’d made sure of that – a bit of violence at regular intervals to burn through it faster, a few broken bones and purple bruises. A bit of _special_ pain that she almost wished he could be awake for. It had been almost addictive to watch his dulled reactions to it, so addictive that even when the injuries stopped healing unnaturally fast, she’d continued doing it, just to see him squirm.

He quieted down after a while, and Excella absentmindedly continued petting his hair while she contemplated her next steps. She would not encounter the BSAA on anything but her own terms, a time, place and situation _she_ had chosen, made possible thanks to her informants on the inside to warn her if they ever got too close. Though there was still the issue of the supposed other Wesker down in Kijuju…

“Is she telling the truth, you think?” she asked Albert. “Did your sister really come to try and save you? That would be quite heartwarming, wouldn’t it?” The mere idea irritated her more than she cared to admit. “Maybe the BSAA will actually let her go, so she can find us. And wouldn’t _that_ be interesting?”

Not that she would find them. Any leads they might have had had disappeared into thin air when Albert had tried to lure them to the safe house. They had to start over now. And the other Wesker would have to do the same.

“Unless…” Her hand stilled, resting on Albert’s head. She was staring off into empty space. “Unless her brother told her where we are,” Excella whispered. Her fingers tightened around the locks of hair, and Albert made a small noise of complaint at the pulling sensation, but she ignored it.

Her eyes found his face, his features so soft and relaxed now, and she couldn’t help but smile. “You left one message; you might leave another,” she told him. “And when she comes to save you… I’ll show her that Uroboros is a force to be reckoned with. And you’ll get to watch.”

It would require a bit of thinking – after all, she didn’t want the BSAA showing up at her doorstep with the other Wesker stuck safely in containment down in Kijuju. No, what she needed was a reason for them to bring her along, to make her essential to the success of the mission.

“A place not many people other than you two know about, that’s what we need. And I think I might have _just the spot_ – provided they haven’t razed the place to the ground, because the winds up there are nasty this time of year. You ready for a little trip down memory lane, Albert?”

Though she’d have to let him wake up if she didn’t want him to miss the show, which meant taking certain precautions to avoid any interference on his part, Excella was positive that it would be more than worth it to see his reaction. She didn’t know what Albert’s relationship with this other Wesker was, if he had even known or cared about her. But she was the first person who seemed to be after them not to eliminate the threat of Uroboros, but to very specifically save Albert. Which was unacceptable.

“You’ll be mine,” she assured him. “I’ll make you tell me what you want, and then you’ll be mine. And anyone who tries to take you away from me will die.”

Albert mumbled something unintelligible in his forced sleep, turned his head away from the touch of her hand. She had to admit she was excited to have him awake again soon. Just like when she’d first deprived him of ’67, being able to do anything she wanted without even a hint of a conscious response was so very dull.

After all, what was life without a little bit of challenge?


	12. Chapter 12

All heads in the comm office turned in her direction when she entered, the first time they’d seen her since she’d stormed in to see the Tricell network message firsthand, and then back out to call Chris. The expression on their faces was a look of collective disappointment with just a dash of frustration. Jill knew that feeling all too well.

“Alright, so who’s going to tell me the bad news?” she called, and crossed her arms expectantly. Chris had already filled her in over the phone right after they got back from the safe house, but that wasn’t the point of this exercise.

A few exchanged glances before someone spoke up. “Gionne got away. The place was empty when Agent Redfield’s team arrived.”

Jill clapped her hands and made her way over to ‘her’ desk. “Precisely! Had been empty for quite a bit already – an hour or so at the very least. And what does that mean?”

Nobody answered, so she plopped herself down on the chair, pulled up her feet and swivelled around to look at everybody.

“It means,” she said with slow deliberation, “that there’s a pretty high likelihood somebody in the BSAA fucked us over by telling her when Chris’ team moved out. We’ve got a mole on our hands, esteemed friends!”

That got a reaction. Multiple agents grimaced, a few cursed under their breath, others stayed silent. Jill took note of those that seemed the most nervous. It wouldn’t be enough to prove anyone was guilty of anything, but it could never hurt to keep an eye on suspicious fellows, now could it?

“There’ll most likely be extensive background checks ordered by the higher-ups sometime soon to cover their asses – if there aren’t, we might want to arrest them, since that probably means _they’re_ the moles – and up until then we’re all under general suspicion, which is great for work climate and nothing else,” Jill told them with a shrug.

The agent with the glasses spoke up. “Aren’t _you_ under suspicion as well, since you worked for Tricell up until pretty recently?” she asked coolly.

Jill raised an eyebrow. “Probably, yeah. But unfortunately I’ve got a watertight alibi since I was in a therapy session when this whole shitshow went down, and have a majorly miffed therapist to confirm that fact. How about you? Where were you when Chris moved out?”

That question seemed to mildly offend the agent, even moreso since she apparently didn’t have a satisfying answer. Jill shrugged once again and then swivelled around to attend to her paper pellet throwing duties.

It was quiet for a while, the concentrated silence only interrupted by Jill successfully hitting trash bins, before another agent cleared their throat. “Don’t you want to hear the other news too, Jill?”

She paused in her movements and looked over her shoulder. “There’s more?”

Several people nodded.

“Is the other news good or bad?”

“Bad,” came the collective answer.

Jill let out a defeated sigh. “Oh, come _on_.”

“There’s been a significant increase in Uroboros incidents the past few days, with over sixty percent of them resulting in multiple casualties,” someone read off a screen. “BSAA suspects Miss Gionne is pissed at us for driving her out of her comfy little safe house, and at Wesker for helping us determine the location they were at. The Tricell network hasn’t been accessed again, and we doubt it will be anytime soon, but we’re supposed to keep an eye on it anyway.”

“Delightful,” Jill mumbled. “So we get backseat duty. Anything else?”

The person chuckled humourlessly. “Only more ‘backseat duties’. The cameras Redfield and the team installed at the abandoned safe house, for starters. Highly doubtful Gionne will ever return there, but it’s worth a try anyway in their opinion. We created a new account for you, in case you want to check it out yourself.”

“Well, I’m not exactly busy at the moment.” She threw her last paper pellet, then turned to face her computer. “Thanks, by the way!” she called over her shoulder, and booted up the system.

As soon as she was online, she immediately clicked through to the Tricell network. And there was the message, just like she’d seen on the big screens of the comm console the other day. She opened the file.

The wording was still the same – of course it was, it wasn’t like Excella was going to log back in and risk them tracking her just to delete or edit it. Jill read through it again anyway.

“You poor, stupid son of a bitch,” she muttered under her breath. “You had no idea she had people on the inside, did you? You actually thought this would _work_.”

With Excella once again disappearing and the signs of struggle left at the house, there wasn’t much debate left over whether the message had been designed to bait the BSAA or not. No, this had to have been Wesker.

Jill closed the file and tried to take her mind off it by going through some of the experiment logs in the digital storage (none of the interesting stuff was available at the security level the comm peeps had managed to get in on, unfortunately). But time after time, she found herself returning to that one specific file, opening and then angrily closing it again, as if it would change while she wasn’t looking.

Eventually she couldn’t take it anymore and dialled Chris’ number. He picked up after the fourth ring. “Jill, what the hell? Timezones exist.”

“Sorry, sorry.” She knew she didn’t sound sincere, but she couldn’t help it. Her fingers were drumming a nervous rhythm on the wooden tabletop. “Have you guys found anything yet?”

“No. Nothing.” She heard him yawn on the other end of the line. “Those tire tracks ended a few miles outside of the estate, and we hit a dead end trying to figure out where they went soon after that. Nobody saw them, nobody met them. They’re just gone again. Could be anywhere by now.”

Jill cursed under her breath.

“My words exactly. But we’ll find them again. And when we do…” He lowered his voice. “…we won’t call HQ when we move out. See if those moles get to her in time or not.”

“Unless the mole is on your team,” she replied in an equally hushed tone. “Then what will you do?”

He was silent for a moment. “I’ll change teams,” he finally said. She could hear in his tone how unhappy he was about not being able to fully trust his companions. But they both knew that it was safer to be wary of teammates than to get double-crossed by them. They’d learned that lesson the hard way.

“Was there anything else you needed? It’s really late. Or early, depending on how you want to look at it,” Chris broke the thoughtful silence, and Jill couldn’t help but chuckle.

“No, not really. Thanks for answering. And, uh. Sorry for waking you up.”

“Anytime.”

She put down the phone and rubbed her neck. More out of habit than anything, she clicked on the message in the Tricell network again.

Every muscle in her body seemed to freeze.

Before her eyes, the words were disappearing, one after another until the page was blank. For just a second, the comm office was dead silent.

And then a great commotion broke out, people yelling over each other and getting up from their desks, hectically activating programs to monitor what was happening. “We’re tracking the location,” someone called.

But Jill couldn’t, wouldn’t look away as the person accessing the account started typing again, new words appearing on the page.

_Alex Wesker will know where I am. She can find me. I know she can._

Over the hammering of her own heartbeat she heard another agent say that the signal had disappeared and that it hadn’t been long enough for a pinpoint location.

“We need to inform the people down in Kijuju,” someone suggested.

Jill was still staring at the words on the screen.

“Let’s hope she didn’t catch you this time, you poor, stupid son of a bitch,” she whispered.


	13. Chapter 13

The news had spread around the teams stationed in different places like wildfire – and of course, their outpost had been among the first to hear about it, given that they were the ones keeping an eye on the person mentioned in the message. Which meant it was also their responsibility to decide whether or not to _tell_ their guest about the latest developments.

Josh was strictly against it when she brought it up. “HQ hasn’t given us permission to involve her in any way yet. Better to not risk it until we have orders on how to proceed,” he declared. “She might try to do something stupid if she gets impatient.”

Sheva couldn’t exactly argue with that logic… but it still bothered her. They didn’t know if there was limited time until Excella moved again and they’d missed their chance. And when the next day, headquarters contacted them and told them the verdict, one that everyone had expected and dreaded, she was the one to snatch up the files and grab a cup of coffee, and make her way over to the only occupied holding cell in the compound.

A pane of bullet- and soundproof glass lay between the sparsely furnished room and the little alcove she stepped into, which contained nothing but a table and a chair. Sheva set down her coffee and moved over to the panel of switches on the wall, flicking the one that turned on the mics and would allow her to speak with their guest. And their guest with her, unless the lady decided to give her the silent treatment again.

Thankfully, Sheva had a strong opening line this time. “Alex Wesker. That’s your name, isn’t it?” she asked, and immediately had a pair of widened blue eyes following her every move.

“How do you know?” The lady’s – Alex’ – voice was barely audible.

Sheva opened the file and skimmed over its contents again. “There have been a few developments,” she explained. “Some of which concern _you_ personally.”

That earned her a rather puzzled look. “You mean more personally than it had already concerned me?”

“So to speak. But before I tell you, you should probably know about HQ’s decision regarding the handling of your case.”

Alex laughed bitterly. “You mean they _haven’t_ decided to let me go? How shocking.”

“They have decided that we’re allowed to divulge certain pieces of information with you in the hopes that you might be able to help us find Excella. And your brother,” Sheva added. “You’ll still be stuck here, but you’ll be contributing.”

She didn’t wait for a response, and instead stepped up to the glass and held up the file for Alex to see. “Four days ago, our team in Italy managed to accurately trace a signal location from Excella’s Tricell account. There was a message left there as well, which has been deleted as of right now, which we are presuming to have been written by Albert Wesker. By the time our agents arrived at the house, it was empty.”

Alex had gotten up from where she’d been sitting on the narrow bed, her hands balled into fists at her side, not saying a word.

“There were signs of a struggle,” Sheva continued. “But no indication where they had gone. Until yesterday.” She turned the page of the report to show a screenshot of the new message left in the network, and Alex stepped up against the other side of the glass to be able to make out what was written there. The corner of her mouth twitched, but other than that her face betrayed little of what was going through her head. She took a step back.

“And now I’m supposed to magically know where they are? Is that how you imagined it would go?” she asked sarcastically.

Sheva closed the file and set it down on the table. “We’re being told that you know where they are, that you can find them. And that means that not only are they in a place _Wesker_ is able to recognise, but it’s also one that he knows _you’re_ familiar with. One that, if someone asked you what the most likely place for him to be referring to would be, you would think of.”

Alex barked out a laugh. “Then why didn’t he just write where they are? Wouldn’t that be a hundred times more productive than this guessing game?”

“It would be. But we have no idea what the circumstances of the message being written were. Whether he was under time constraints, whether he meant to tell us more but couldn’t finish writing because he would have gotten caught, whether he thought the place was so obvious you would know immediately what he meant…” Sheva shrugged. “Whatever the case, this is what we have. So do you know where they might be or not?”

There was silence between them for a moment while Alex frowned harder and seemed to contemplate the possibilities. Then she looked back up, her mouth set in a thin line. “What’s going to happen if I tell you my hunch?” she asked very quietly.

“We’re going to send a team to investigate the location – or locations – you tell us.”

“And what if they’re not there?”

Sheva sighed. “In that case, we’ll need you to think of where else they might be. And then we’ll search there. We don’t exactly have a lot to go on right now, as you’ve probably guessed already.”

Alex nodded thoughtfully. “There are really only a few places he could possibly be talking about,” she explained. “Most of which have been destroyed by now. Which leaves three options – one that is impossible, one that would be highly audacious for the Gionne woman to dare go to… and the one I think it is.”

“Which would be?”

“I can bring you there.”

“Not a chance.” Sheva shook her head resolutely. “HQ has decided it’s safer for you to stay here. We’re not going to risk you escaping or getting killed.”

Anger flared up in Alex’ cold eyes. “You’ve already let her get away once, and now you expect me to sit here and do nothing while you incompetent fools let her get away _again_? How much of a pushover do you take me for?” Her voice was getting louder as she paced in front of the glass. “You don’t care one bit about what she’s actually _doing_ , do you?! All you care about is whether or not you complete your mission, and get a promotion or whatever it is you’re hoping to get out of this. I’m not stupid enough to think you’d actually _give a shit_.”

She stopped pacing, trying to calm her rapid breathing. Once again, Sheva had little to soothe her anger with. “We _do_ care,” she told her. “Just in a less personal way than you. Excella Gionne is a terrorist, one who is more than willing to harm innocent bystanders if it gives her an advantage, and our _mission_ is to stop her at all costs.”

“And the cost is to let me come with you,” Alex hissed. “Or is that too high a price?”

“HQ won’t let us do that. You’re not part of the organisation, and your background gives us reason to believe you’re not trustworthy.”

She was rewarded with a cold stare. “Is that what _you_ think? Or what your ‘organisation’ has told you to think?” Alex asked with obvious contempt.

Sheva met her gaze. “It’s the safest option we have. And this may be a personal bias, but bargaining with the enemy has so far only ever resulted in trouble for me and my colleagues. Last time we tried it, almost our entire squad got wiped out on some tanker in the middle of the ocean. I’m sure you’ve heard of it.”

“And you think bargaining with me is the same thing as bargaining with _her_?” Alex seemed almost insulted.

“I never said that. But it is a _risk_. Not only for me and the BSAA, but for you as well. You haven’t seen firsthand what Excella can do with Uroboros.”

Alex had started pacing again. “I’m willing to take that risk if it means I get to see her die,” she told Sheva. “Besides, the message clearly said that not only would I know where they were, but that I could _find_ them. He _wants_ me to be there.”

Sheva opened her mouth. Then closed it again. The words _What he wants doesn’t matter_ had been on the tip of her tongue, but she had a feeling Alex would not have liked hearing that. “I can tell HQ what you said. Maybe they’ll reconsider,” she finally offered, even though she didn’t really believe the words herself.

Neither did Alex, it seemed. “Don’t bother. And if I were you, I’d be a bit more careful exactly how much trust to put into your organisation.” A grin split her face, showing teeth. “After all, how did the Gionne bitch get away without a trace if she didn’t have someone on the inside to warn her you were coming?”

Sheva felt an uncomfortable shiver run up her neck. “We’re looking into that, don’t worry. We’re well aware there’s a mole.”

“There’s more than one,” Alex replied. “You wouldn’t _believe_ how easy it is to sway some of your colleagues in return for a bit of cash. It’s how B.O.W. sellers avoid your grasp, it’s how I got my hands on the Kijuju Incident report, and it’s how Excella Gionne has and will continue getting away. I’m not just refusing to tell you where she is because I’m spiteful and I want to get my way, but because I know for a fact that if I tell you and you tell HQ, she’ll be long gone by the time your agents arrive. If you want to actually have a chance to catch her unaware, you’re going to have to reevaluate who you consider trustworthy and who is better off not knowing your next plan of attack.”   

They stared at each other for a long, long moment. Sheva _knew_ there was truth in what Alex had said. But that didn’t mean she had to like it.

“Where are they?” she finally asked.

Alex raised an eyebrow. “What will you do if I tell you?”

“I’ll inform the three people I trust most in the entire BSAA, and figure out how to get us all to wherever it is you think they are without anyone finding out,” Sheva told her. “And then we’ll try to get back your brother and use him as leverage to get Excella to do as we say.”

Another beat of silence. Then, Alex nodded.

“There are three places I can think of that he might be referring to,” she said, and Sheva felt the first glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe this might work. “The first one is impossible – it’s this facility right here, one of Umbrella’s best kept secrets. The second is unlikely – it’s a small island in the Baltic Sea where I’ve been living and conducting most of my research for the past nine years, and if she was there, _someone_ would have reached out to me by now. And the third…” She paused, and stared Sheva straight in the eyes. “…is Ozwell Spencer’s old estate.”


	14. Chapter 14

It was an odd sort of déjà-vu.

The mansion sitting silently, its dark and empty windows staring down as they approached. Wind tugging at the overgrown bushes and leafless trees framing the footpath that led up to the ornate double doors. Thunder rolling overhead and rain beating down relentlessly, drowning out whatever sound their footsteps would have made. Just like three years ago… except for one crucial detail.

It wasn’t Jill he was with this time. No, she was safely stuck back at the BSAA headquarters, trying to offer as much technological assistance as possible with the limited amount of details they’d been able to give her about the plan. And in her stead were Sheva, determined as ever, and the Wesker lady. Alex, Sheva had called her. She, too, was carrying a gun, and had exchanged her previous pearl-white business suit for a stealthier black ensemble. It made her look remarkably similar to her brother, Chris thought.

No one had bothered to change the lock since Jill had picked it back then, it seemed. Either that, or somebody else had picked the new one already. Whichever one it was, it made their task just the slightest bit easier.

The entrance hall was deserted, as were the adjacent dining room and corridors. The furniture and decorations were covered in a thick layer of dust, the paintings on the walls cobwebbed, the wallpapers themselves rotting in the damp air. Everything appeared to be in a general state of falling apart. Chris vaguely remembered the monstrosities that had been dwelling in the cellar back then, and rounded each corner expecting to find one standing right in front of them, but they didn’t come across a single living thing during their painfully slow, cautious exploration of the building.

On the one hand, he was glad about it. Running into Excella was pretty much the worst case scenario. With their very limited firepower (courtesy of literally abandoning his team in the dead of night because Sheva had called and told him they needed to get Alex to where she thought Wesker was without the BSAA knowing), the success of their plan relied very heavily on their ability to get in and back out without being caught.

But on the other hand, it meant Wesker was somewhere _else_ in the house, and the longer they stuck around, the greater the danger of messing up became.

Chris led the other two back to the main hall, and then down into what Jill had lovingly referred to as ‘Spencer’s fucked up torture dungeon’ back in the day. The dust and cobwebs had taken hold of this place as well, but at least it was devoid of monsters, and the corpses had long since rotted away to nothing but bones. He followed the same path as back then, letting his memory guide him, trusting that his two companions would be right behind him.

When they reached the spot where the wooden platform had given way beneath their feet the last time they’d come through here, he raised his hand to indicate the others should wait, and tentatively shifted his weight to see if the material would hold. He was the heaviest of the three of them, after all. If it carried him, it would carry them. And if it didn’t… well, he’d figure out how to deal with that problem for when the thing collapsed.

Thankfully, it didn’t, merely groaned under his feet. Still not optimal, considering they were trying to be stealthy, but better than expected. Chris jumped the gap, then waved Sheva and Alex along, up a flight of stone stairs and into an all-too-familiar corridor. There was nothing but darkness outside the high windows lining it, except for the short flashes of brightness whenever lightning struck, immediately followed by growling thunder.

Their steps echoed quietly on the stone tiles as they snuck onwards, drawing ever closer to the plain wooden double doors at the end, behind which lay a room Chris had never thought he’d return to. _Please, let him be here. And please let Excella be literally anywhere else._

A final moment of hesitation, and then they exchanged a resolute nod. Sheva pushed lightly against the door, then harder when it didn’t give way immediately. They seemed to collectively hold their breath as they stepped inside.

They were greeted by the now much louder sound of the storm, the abandoned library open to the elements thanks to the broken ceiling-high window, causing sharp gusts of wind to rip through the room and raindrops to patter against the cold stone floor.

“Look,” Sheva breathed, directed their gaze to the left.

There, slumped against one of the ornate stone pillars holding the library’s roof, dull and half-rusted steel chains clasped around his wrists, was Wesker.

Alex cursed under her breath and hurried towards him, crouched down next to him and held two fingers to his pulse point. She let out a sigh of relief. “He’s alive,” she called, careful to keep her voice soft. “Come on!”

They approached, guns still at the ready, but nothing moved except for a few damp blonde strands of Wesker’s hair that were fluttering in the wind. Alex was talking to him in hushed tones, gently shaking him by the shoulders to try and wake him up. She looked up at them when they got close, eyes filled with hatred. “That fucking bitch,” she whispered. “What has she _done_ to him?”

It was hard to tell, though it was clear as day that Wesker was in rather bad shape, judging by the dark shadows under his eyes and the half-faded bruises covering most every visible bit of skin on his body. Whether the rest, hidden by clothing as it was, looked the same, was impossible to say. Chris decided that, too, was a thing to be dealt with at a different time. “Can you get him awake?” he asked instead. “Carrying him would hold us up considerably, and we’re already stretching our luck.”

Instead of an answer, Alex turned away, and shook Wesker again, harder this time. “Albert,” she urged. “Albert, can you hear me? You need to wake up.”

Chris was about to tell her that it was useless and that they better get him loose before Excella showed up, when suddenly Wesker stirred, let out a soft, pained moan and batted away Alex’ hands. The chains clinked together, way too loud in the echoing room.

“Albert?” Alex said, her excitement audible despite her quiet tone. “We’re here to save you. We found you, just like you said.”


	15. Chapter 15

His entire body seemed to consist of nothing but hurt, bruises and what felt like half-healed broken bones mixing with the dizzying weakness of serum withdrawal. When he tried to move, clanking steel hindered his movements. He was… chained up?

Blearily, he opened his eyes, blinking in the half-darkness of what looked like–

_Spencer’s library. Just like I left it._

Sure enough, there was the broken, ceiling-high glass window, revealing the thunderstorm raging outside. And in front of it, illuminated occasionally by lightning strikes, were two people in stances of high alert and caution. Familiar people. Chris and his new partner from Kijuju – Sheva Alomar, that was her name. He’d heard Excella call her that, back then.

He saw something move out of the corner of his vision, managed to turn his head… and found himself face to face with Alex. Alex, crouching next to him, looking grim and worried, dressed all in black with her hair in a tight braid. Wesker felt his eyes widen in shock.

_No. No, please no. You can’t be here. Not you._

“How are you here?” he whispered, throat dry as sandpaper. “You shouldn’t be here.”

She threw him a look that was almost offended. “You weren’t in Kijuju when I got there. All that was left was the BSAA, and they did more to hinder my efforts than to help them.”

“Hey now,” Sheva chimed in. “We got you this far, didn’t we?”

But Alex wasn’t paying attention. Instead she was looking around warily, never lowering her weapon. “Where’s the Gionne bitch?” she asked quietly. “Is she home?”

“I don’t know.” Thinking hurt. Everything was so numb. How long had he been out for? “I don’t know where she is.” There was a small pit of dread opening up in his stomach, that everpresent fear of uncertainty. When would she be back?

_If she finds them here, she’ll kill them. And you’ll get the same cruelty without a chance of it ending._

With great effort, he managed to raise his head further, staring straight up into Alex’ eyes, the blue so much paler and colder than he remembered. But still so similar to how his own eyes used to be. Before.

“You need to _leave_ ,” he told her, almost inaudible over the noise of the storm.

“Not a chance in hell.” Alex’ gaze was hard as ice, and filled with a determination he knew no argument would be able to sway. “We’re getting you away from her.” Her eyes flickered down to the chains binding his body. “But first…”

Chris stepped forward, pulling a small silvery object out of his pocket. “The master of unlocking couldn’t make it to the party, unfortunately. So you’re going to have to make do with me. Jill says hi, by the way.” He got down on his knees and lifted Wesker’s arm to examine the lock linking the chains to his wrists. “Looks simple enough. Let’s get to it.”

“Be quick about it,” Alex told him. She seemed unable to stand still, and instead opted to restlessly pace up and down close to them, throwing glances at Wesker every now and then.

He in turn followed her movements, the dread still lurking in the back of his tired mind. Something was off, and he racked his brain trying to figure out what exactly it was. And then finally it hit him, the thing that didn’t make sense. “How did you find me?”

Alex threw him the tiniest of smiles. “The message you left in the Tricell network.”

“But that was for the safe house. This is Spencer’s place.”

“No, not that message. The _other_ one,” Alex corrected impatiently, still pacing and looking around the room every few seconds to locate a threat that wasn’t there.

Wesker suddenly felt very, very cold. “No. Not me,” he whispered, and Alex stopped in her movements apruptly. “That wasn’t me.”

For a second, they just stared at each other. And then Alex let out a string of curse words and backed up, drew closer to him and raised her weapon. Sheva did the same. “Chris, hurry,” she hissed from between grit teeth. “We have to get out.”

“She knows we’re here,” Alex muttered. “Why the fuck hasn’t she attacked yet? Albert, why hasn’t she attacked yet?”

Wesker just shook his head, equally clueless but infinitely more alarmed.

Chris hadn’t said a word, wearing the same expression of intense concentration as before while he worked, ignoring the other two’s agitation. A tense couple of minutes went by, the scratching of the lockpick the only sound in the room, and then Chris made a small noise of triumph. The chains snapped open.

Alex was next to them instantly, wrapping an arm around Wesker’s middle and hauling him to his feet. “Come on,” she said. “Help me with him.” Chris joined her in her efforts while Sheva stayed behind them, nervously checking the dark corners of the room as they hurried over to the double doors.

Thunder rumbled, and the same moment a flash of lightning illuminated the room and threw a shadow of an all-too-familiar silhouette over them. Wesker stopped dead in his tracks, and the others with him. _She was outside_ , he thought, desperation pulling at his core. _She was outside the window. She heard everything._

“Oh _fuck_ ,” Sheva breathed.

They turned, almost in unison – and there was Excella, drenched in rainwater but seemingly oblivious to the cold, smiling her most vicious smile. Uroboros was crawling down her body to form fleeting little patterns. “Albert,” she called, two syllables that were enough to make every muscle in his body freeze, refusing to move even an inch. “Where do you think you’re going?”

He couldn’t answer. He _couldn’t_. Whatever he said, it would be wrong, and she would be angry. Oh God she would be so _angry_.

Alex stepped forward. “He’s going with us, you fucking rapist _bitch_ ,” she yelled, her pistol that would be absolutely useless in a fight against Uroboros pointed straight at Excella’s face. Wesker wanted to tell her to stop, to back down, but his voice wouldn’t obey.

Excella scoffed. “I don’t think so. He hasn’t paid off his debt yet.” She looked Alex up and down, as if assessing her enemy, and Wesker caught the subtle shift in expression that was there and then instantly gone again. Whatever she had seen, she didn’t seem to like it. “He’s _mine_ ,” she declared. “And anyone who tries to take him from me will die.”

_No._

He couldn’t let her. Not Alex, and not like this. He needed to make her stop. He needed–

No. No, that wasn’t it.

He didn’t need.

He _wanted_.

A terrible numbness came over him as he realised what he had to do. The only way for him to force her hand, and the one thing she hadn’t been able to force from him.

“Excella,” he said into the cold darkness of the room, staring at the floor instead of her eyes as if that would make it any better. “Excella, I want you to let Alex live. I want her to leave unharmed.”

It was quiet for a second, Alex going from confused to alarmed when the implications of his words sank in, even if the true meaning of them was beyond her. And then Excella laughed. And Wesker knew she’d understood.

“What do you mean _leave_?” Alex sounded incredulous, her eyes wide, her hands gripping the gun painfully tight. But Wesker just shook his head, feeling so, so tired.

“Do you really think I haven’t tried to kill her? Believe me, Alex, I did. There’s no point. And I’m not going to let you get yourself killed pointlessly.” He looked at her, this estranged, proud lady who was his sister in nothing but name, and something twisted deep in his chest at the realisation of what he was asking of her. “Go home, Alex. There’s nothing here for you worth dying for.”

“I came to _save you_.” Alex’ voice was trembling with fury. “I went to Kijuju, looking for you, risked my own freedom to find out where you’d gone. If it wasn’t for _these two_ ,” She pointed at Chris and Sheva. “I’d still be locked up in one of their holding cells, wondering what happened to you. I came _all this way_ to save you… and you tell me you don’t _want_ to be saved?”

An awful silence stretched on between them, punctuated by the thunder rumbling outside. He kept his face carefully neutral, opened his mouth to form a retort and then closed it again when he realised there was nothing he could say. _Don’t think about it._

Alex was still staring at him, equal parts angry and expectant, waiting for him to brush off the accusation, to tell her that of course he wanted to come with her and that he was grateful she was here for him. But as the seconds ticked by without him speaking, her expression darkened ever-so-gradually.

“What has she _done_ to you?” she asked bitterly. “What has she done to you that would leave you so… so…” There didn’t seem to be a word for what she thought he was, but he understood anyway.

Answers flashed through his mind, memories of Excella’s hand crushing the bones of his wrist, of the times when she chose to withhold ’67 for so long his mind went hazy, of smooth softness crawling across his skin and threatening to consume him, held back only by her command. He didn’t get a chance to voice any of them.

“He learned to behave,” Excella answered in his stead, and Alex bared her teeth at her in helpless fury. “And you don’t even _begin_ to understand what he’s giving up for you to be able to walk away from this unscathed. So why don’t you at least have the decency to do as he asks?”

“ _You_ don’t get to order me around.” Alex’ voice was dripping with contempt.

Excella made a soft noise of amusement, and shook her head. “The only reason you’re not dead is because he wants you to live.” She was acting gracious, but Wesker could see the telltale signs of impatience beginning to manifest. She wouldn’t put up with this much longer. “Albert,” she addressed him directly, and he felt cold fear run up his spine. “Come here.”

Alex’ hand shot forward to hold his arm tight, her face a grimace of anger and pain. But mostly anger. “Don’t you _dare_ ,” she hissed.

“Go home, Alex,” he repeated like a broken record, not knowing what else to do. “Take those two with you, and go back to your island.” _I’m not going to let you die. She doesn’t deserve the privilege of killing the last Wesker as well._ He pulled his hand from her grip and stepped away.

His feet were heavy as lead as he slowly, reluctantly made his way over to Excella, joined her side in front of the jagged remnants of the ceiling-high window, the harsh wind beating against his back and tugging at his hair as he turned to face his sister and her two companions. Alex was staring him with a look of absolute betrayal.

Next to him, Excella chuckled triumphantly. Her hand came to rest on the small of his back. “He knows his place,” she purred.

Alex took a step, her expression livid, but Chris grabbed her by the arm to hold her back. He raised the other hand to his headset, and pressed a button on it. “Jill,” he said, “You might want to send in the cavalry.” Then he let go and stepped forward, eyes and gun trained on Excella without as much as a hint of nervousness. “Take the fastest way out of the castle,” he told Alex. “We can only hold her back for so long.”

She stared at him incredulously for a moment, opening her mouth as if to protest, but his eyes flickered to her and then back over in Wesker and Excella’s direction, and when Alex followed his gaze, something in her mind seemed to click into place. She pressed her lips together to form a grim line, and nodded.

“Oh, please. You can’t possibly be _that_ stupid,” Excella called, a grin tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“Sure can.” Chris shrugged. “But hey, all the better for you, right?” He returned her grin, and clicked off the safety. “The rest of the team’s going to be here any moment, and up until then… well, I guess we’ll have to find a way to pass the time.”

But it wasn’t Chris who fired – it was Sheva, who had made her way over to the other corner of the room on quiet feet while nobody was looking. And when the first bullet hit him square in the chest, a sudden flash of confusion ran through Wesker, before his body caught up with him and he stumbled, gasping at the sharp pain that blossomed into wet, trickling heat.

And the next thing he knew was Excella’s iron grip as she pulled him behind her, Uroboros rearing up in tune with her fury, her entire face illuminated by the vicious glow of her eyes. “ _You_ ,” she growled, “ _How dare you_.”

More bullets rushed their way, and yes, they were useless against Excella, but not against Wesker, and they were coming from both sides. No matter which way they turned, they somehow always managed to hit him. Handguns didn’t pack a lot of punch, but they fired fast, and every shot that found its target made another note of agony join the growing chorus.

 _They’re going to kill me_ , he realised numbly. _They’re going to kill me so Excella can’t have me_.

It was a strangely comforting thought.

Excella let out a mad scream when he collapsed to his knees, let go of his wrist and threw herself forward – if she couldn’t block the bullets, then she would kill the ones who were firing them. Instantly, Chris and Sheva were drawing back, as if they’d expected this very thing, careful to keep just barely out of reach of the writhing, restless mass that was snapping forward to tear them apart.

And then suddenly there were footsteps, light and rapid, pounding against the stone floor and against the inside of Wesker’s skull, so loud, _so very loud_ , and then Alex was next to him, fear in her eyes but also something else and her arms were around his chest to pull him to his feet, all in one fluid motion, never losing her momentum but carrying it with her. She felt so warm against him, a sharp contrast to the freezing rain, the storm outside the shattered window as her run suddenly turned into a _leap_ , the floor disappearing underneath him and being replaced by thunder and a blindingly bright flash of lightning and air rushing past his body, and Wesker couldn’t _breathe_ but that was alright because he felt more than heard Excella’s shrill cry when she realised what had happened.

The lightning strike faded and it was dark again, the ocean licking against the foot of the cliff the mansion was built on little more than a solid black mass that approached way too fast, and felt like running into a concrete wall as they hit it, pushing every ounce of air out of his lungs. Wesker desperately fought not to swallow water, kicking and trying to maneuver back up to the surface, Alex’ arms still a comforting presence around his chest.

She did her best to hold him overwater as he gasped in shallow breaths of air, fighting off the memory of hands around his throat and darkness at the corners of his vision. Ice cold saltwater bit into the bullet holes in his chest that were slowly oozing blood. If it hadn’t been so dark, he was sure the water around them would have been coloured pink with it. But as it was, there was only black on black.

“He’ll be here in a second,” Alex mumbled when his breathing had finally calmed down a bit. “You okay?” He nodded without a word, but she wasn’t looking at him. She was craning her head, frowning in what appeared to be concentration. “Come _on_ ,” she muttered. “Come on; we don’t have much time.”

He wanted to ask her what it was she was waiting for, when suddenly a faint noise caught his attention. The steady hum of a motorboat, and a second later Alex seemed to hear it too, judging by the way her face lit up. The boat emerged from the darkness, fast and nimble, and maneuvered next to them. The worried face of Jill’s silent partner from back on the tanker leaned over the railing to offer a hand.

“Sheva never said there would be any fancy diving involved. Was that part of the plan?” he asked as Alex grabbed onto his wrist and hauled them both onboard.

“Hell no,” she replied. “But the plan fell apart, and we had to improvise. Speaking of which – we better go. The Gionne bitch might decide to dive after us.”

“Sheva and Chris?”

“They were busy shooting her last I saw. Waiting for them is too risky.”

He looked rather unhappy about it, but didn’t protest. “Hold on tight,” he advised. “Still the same route as discussed?”

Alex simply nodded.

He turned the boat around, picking up speed as the cliff shrunk away and disappeared into the night. None of them spoke, so an eery silence enveloped their little group of three, broken only by the soft vibrations of the engine. Wesker could still feel the dull throbbing of the bullet wounds, but the bleeding appeared to have stopped. They would heal. Hopefully.

Alex was staring at him when he turned his head. Her pale eyes seemed to almost be glowing in the darkness.

“What?”

She continued staring. Wesker resisted the urge to look away, and stared back.

After a while, Alex smiled that little smile again. “The fact that she was expecting us was… unfortunate,” she admitted. “But we didn’t come to the dead old fool’s castle just to steal you away. Nobody is stupid enough to think that’ll suffice to get rid of her. No, Albert. We’re going home now. And when she comes to steal you back, we’ll have a nasty little surprise waiting for her.”

He tilted his head, wary yet intrigued. “What kind of surprise?”

But Alex just laughed. “Bring fire into the eyes,” she told him, and ran her little finger along her eyebrow.

And that was all she would say.

It didn’t do much to soothe the vague, sinking feeling of discomfort lurking in the back of his mind, whispering that it was too much to hope for whatever she had planned to work. He would believe it when it happened, and not a moment sooner. But even though it might have been pointless in the long run… he’d take what he could get.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had the choice between kicking Alex back out of the plot immediately to continue the Excella/Wesker pain train, or this. Unfortunately, Alex absolutely 100% REFUSED to be kicked out of the plot and opted to instead dive out a window with Albert in tow, creating problems for literally everybody. Including me.
> 
> That being said, I am pretty happy with this chapter as a whole… mostly because there’s been a sentence in the plot notes for this part of the story for quite a while now saying “Wouldn’t it be hilarious if Wesker got tackled out that same window AGAIN?”, and I haven't stopped laughing about it yet. 
> 
> So yeah. Lol.


	16. Chapter 16

The pavement beneath her shoes was cold, several days of relentless pouring rain turning the ground into a treacherous labyrinth of puddles one had to carefully make their way around. Perfectly symmetrical, plain steps led up to an equally plain, towering building.

Claire took a deep breath, trying to calm herself and quiet her restless, fluttering thoughts.

_Everything is fine. You’re just visiting a friend. They know you’re coming._

If the agent who was checking her bag for (what she assumed was) weapons, verifying her I.D. and handing her the temporary visitor’s badge noticed the slight strain to her smile, they didn’t comment on it. “Enjoy your stay, Miss Redfield,” they said with that distinctly customer-service-esque cheerfulness. “Do you know your way around the BSAA headquarters, or should I call for someone to accompany you?”

“I know the way, thanks.”

Jill had sent her a map of the place, the blueprints of which were stored safely both in Claire’s phone and in the back of her brain, as well as a separate email titled _Some stuff about You-know-who_ , containing a number of documents that were, by the looks of them, highly confidential and meant only for the eyes of qualified agents. After spending several sleepless nights poring over them, a lot of the things she’d seen in Kijuju suddenly made a whole lot more sense.

Nobody paid her any mind as she made her way through the compound. People seemed to constantly be in a hurry, expressions tense and concentrated. The reason wasn’t particularly difficult to guess – three agents being AWOL after disobeying orders and setting free a person in the BSAA’s custody was more than enough to dampen the mood, to be sure. And then there was the distress call…

Jill hadn’t been able to give her much information on what had happened in Europe, but had promised to fill her in in person.

Claire stopped in front of a plain white door, one of many identical ones going all the way down that side of the corridor. She checked the plaquette next to it, and nodded to herself. Then she knocked.

The sound of a key turning in the lock could be heard, and then the door opened just a fraction. “Who’s there?”

“Your ride,” Claire answered, and immediately the door was pulled open wider and Jill revealed herself, grinning tensely.

“You sure know how to keep a gal waiting,” she said. “Come on in!” She waved Claire inside, shut and relocked the door behind her, and made a grand, sweeping gesture. “Welcome to my humble, BSAA-assigned abode. Looks like shit, huh?”

Claire took a look around. There wasn’t much to see, just a bed, a narrow wardrobe, a desk and two chairs, and a single abstract painting on the otherwise blank white walls. “Cozy,” she noted.

“It is what it is.” Jill shrugged. “But that’s not what you’re here for anyway. Did you bring the stuff?”

“Sure did.” Claire opened her bag and pulled out a plastic-wrapped bundle of clothing, and handed them to Jill. “Thank god for all the rain; I think explaining why I’m carrying around a spare outfit might have been a bit hard otherwise. But they didn’t even ask.”

Jill unpacked the clothes and held them up, assessing them with a frown. “Yeah, the BSAA’s got bigger things to worry about than whether or not you go out of the house carrying spare t-shirts,” she muttered. “Chris, Sheva and Josh are MIA and the entire rest of the unofficial party’s unaccounted for. Cleanup team didn’t find a single soul at Spencer’s old place.”

She pulled the shirt over her head while Claire took a seat on the bed, watching as Jill changed. “Do you know what happened before they disappeared?” she asked, even though she knew she might not like the answer.

But Jill just shook her head. “No idea. Communication cut off and never resumed after he contacted me to let me know shit was about to go down, and by the time the higher-ups had stopped freaking out about some of their best agents starting what was basically a small-scale mutiny, it was already too late. Your brother’s real funny, by the way,” she said with a sideways glance at Claire. “’Send in the cavalry’ my ass. The nearest team’s stationed in fucking _Italy_ , who the fuck was he expecting me to send?!”

Claire had no answer to that question, but Jill was done changing anyway, so the conversation appeared to be over for the time being. “How do I look?” Jill asked.

“Like you’re wearing the clothes of someone slightly shorter than you.”

“As long as I don’t look like Jill Valentine, that’s fine by me.” She had stuffed her hair under the baseball cap Claire had brought to be on the safe side.

“You look like Jill Valentine with blond hair. You never mentioned you were blond now.”

That earned her a rather dark look. “Oh yeah, that. Fuck that. We’re buying hair dye as soon as we’re out of here. Speaking of which–” Jill threw her the now considerably emptier bag. “Time to go!”

Thankfully, there was no one around when they exited the room, Jill locking the door behind them and slipping the key into her pocket. “C’mon,” she said with an impatient wave. “The faster we walk, the less time they have to figure out I’m leaving.” And with that, she strode down the hallway, Claire following at her heels.

Passing the more lively areas was nervewrecking, but just like before, people didn’t pay them any mind, everybody stuck in their own little bubble of stress and work. They shared the elevator with three other agents who ignored them. After they had all gotten off at their respective floors, Jill whispered to her that one of them worked in the comm office, where she had spent time a lot whenever her schedule was empty for the past two months. She seemed to find the fact that he hadn’t recognised her highly amusing.

The reception was occupied by a different person than when Claire had gotten here, who smiled pleasantly when she handed back the visitor’s badge and wished him a nice day.

And then they were out.

Jill only stopped walking once they’d put a few blocks between themselves and the building, and then immediately pulled off the baseball cap. “Thank fuck that’s over with,” she declared. “Now, let’s get the hell out of dodge before my therapist notices I’m late for today’s session.”

Claire breathed a sigh of relief. “Sounds good to me.”

While they walked, Jill fished her phone out of her pocket and dialled a number. She waited for several rings before ending the call and shrugging at Claire’s questioning look. “I’ve been doing that nonstop since they disappeared. Can’t blame me for trying, eh?”

She contacted two more numbers unsuccessfully, and then put away the phone and glanced over at Claire. Her expression had softened into a smile. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s go find your brother.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Less tentatively open-ended this time, hooray! Again, thank y’all for the comments & kudos. 
> 
> This fanfic just ran away with me and refused to calm down (looking at you, Alex. Why are you like this), but I needed a stopping point somewhere and here seemed fine. The third part is still in planning, so I don't know when I'll get around to posting any chapters. Probably gonna be shorter than this one though, because Wesker’s not allowed to have anything nice for any prolonged amount of time. 
> 
> But before that, I have at least one little thing in the works. Something reeeeal fun. You might call it… a Noodle Incident™.


End file.
